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Chill

De
128 pages
Chill has always been different, but the way he deals with his disability and his art have given him the power to survive the horrors of high school. When a new teacher arrives, determined to crush his students' spirit, Chill decides to fight back and risk everything. A story of doing the right thing and standing up for yourself -- and your friends.
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COLIN FRIZZELL CHIL
Chill
Colin Frizzell
Copyright ©2006Colin Frizzell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Frizzell, Colin,1971Chill / Colin Frizzell. (Orca Soundings)
isbn 10: 1551436701(bound)isbn 10: 1551435071(pbk.) isbn 13: 9781551436708(bound)isbn 13: 9781551435077(pbk.)
I. Title. II. Series. ps8611.r59c45 2006 jc813’.6 c20069032580
First published in the United States,2006 Library of Congress Control Number:2006928469
Summary:How far will Chill and Sean go to expose a teacher’s deception?
SWCOC001271
Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed this book on paper certified by the Forest Stewardship Council.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Cover design by Teresa Bubela Cover photography by Getty Images
orca book publishers po Box 5626,Stn. B Victoria, bcCanadaV8R 6S4
orca book publishers po Box 468 Custer, wa usa 982400468
www.orcabook.com Printed and bound in Canada.
131211107654
In memory of my dad, Art.
C h a p t e r O n e
Chill’s foot dragged behind him like a murder victim being taken to a shallow grave by a killer too weak to do the job, but he still stood straighter than any other kid in school. His presence far exceeded his wiry five-foot-nine, fifteen-year-old body. Chill’s size didn’t matter because he was fast, and the speed was made twice
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Colin Frizzell
as powerful because no one expected it from a guy with a bum leg. He held his head high and no one made fun of him. Well, except for that one kid. It was back in grade îve. He was a big guy, new to Glendale Elementary. Kids are like wolves when they arrive at a new school; they look for the weakest in the pack and try to take ’em down. This—they hope—will get them the much-needed acceptance of the pack. You can’t survive in school on your own. It was the îrst recess and the new kid, Shane or Wayne, something like that, spotted Chill. Once he saw Chill’s leg, he made his move. “Hey, hop-a-long,” he called out, though Chill didn’t hop. Hopping would have meant he was trying to appear normal, and Chill didn’t try to be anything but what he was, and what he was, was Chill.
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Chill
“Hop-a-long,” the kid yelled out again. Chill stopped. He shook his head like he’d been waiting for it. Like somehow he knew, from the moment he laid eyes on this kid, that it was going to come to this. He sighed and turned but didn’t say anything. Chill wasn’t much of a talker. He didn’t have to be. His sharp eyes and multitude of expressions could speak volumes. On the other hand, I was a talker and often spoke for Chill. “What do you want?” I said, sticking close to Chill’s side. “I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Hoppy here,” he said, nodding at Chill. “I don’t think he wants to talk to you,” I told him. “What’s the matter?” he said. “His tongue as dead as his leg?”
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The kid laughed. He looked around, hoping others would join him. No one did. He turned back to Chill. “So what happened? Your leg fall asleep in class and you couldn’t wake it up?” he laughed again and looked around again—nothing. The lameness of the at tempted jokes aside, he should have picked up on the lack of reaction from the crowd. He should have realized that no one appreciated what he was doing and thatthiswasn’t going to gain him any friends. Chill shook his head and turned to walk away. “Where do you think you’re going?” the kid asked. “Nowhere fast, that’s for sure,” he added. As Chill walked away, so did everyone else. The new kid was losing his audi-ence. He grabbed Chill by the shoulder
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and spun him around. Chill lost his balance. I went to catch him, but he caught himself before I could and straightened up proudly. Chill stared at the kid with a warning glare that would have made anyone with a lick of sense back off. This kid was not good at picking up on subtleties. “You shouldn’t walk away when people are talking to you,” the kid threatened. “Didn’t your mom teach you that? Or did she give up teaching you anything when she saw you couldn’t even learn to walk?” It took a lot for Chill to lose his cool, but it was deînitely going. He turned away again. This time the kid swung Chill back around with all he had, determined to take him down. But Chill was ready. He didn’t so much spin as pirouette, with his bad leg swinging like a club.
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Chill only meant to sweep his attacker’s legs out from under him, but the kid had stiffened his leg so he could get the full momentum in his pull. When Chill’s leg connected with the kid’s knee, it gave a sickening pop that made everyone in the yard stiffen. The kid dropped like a gummy bear from the ceiling after the saliva dries. Despite the pain, the kid tried to get to his feet to save face, but he could only move himself along the ground like a lame toad. “Who’s Hoppy now?” I yelled. This got a laugh from everyone— except Chill. When I turned to congratulate him on his victory, he’d already disappeared around the corner. I found Chill tucked out of sight withhis sketchpad in the far doorway of the school.
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